


By Any Other Name

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Identity Issues, M/M, Minimegs, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Minimus patrols the decks of the Lost Light, contemplating all of the names that he has used over the years. He runs into several members of the crew, each encounter helping him to get more comfortable in his irreducible form.





	1. Chapter 1

Minimus Ambus flexed his fingers to the calm the twitchy feeling in his armor plating as he completed his end-of-shift walk-through. Setting the Ultra Magnus armor aside was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. He had the unconditional support of the entire crew, Megatron especially, which only complicated matters. Why did it feel like he was the only one having a hard time? 

“Evening, Mags!” Rodimus skidded around the corner, splattered with glittering gold paint. He flashed a radiant smile without slowing down and sped off down the hall. 

Not a half second later, Thunderclash rounded the bend and quickly snapped to attention in a flawless salute. “Sir!” 

Noticing the same glittering paint splashed all over his armor, Minimus shook his head and sighed. “At ease, soldier. Be on your way, or you’ll never catch him.” 

“Thank you, sir!” Thunderclash saluted again and took off with a laugh. Minimus made a note of the time and place. Somewhere nearby, a glittering disaster zone awaited discovery. He really needed to establish some parameters for Rodimus’ and Thunderclash’s art projects. The colors in their last mural were so bright that Swerve complained they made him go blind, and now there was glitter involved. 

He had a similar run in with those two several days ago while wearing the Magnus armor and it played out exactly the same way. Rodimus greeted him with a friendly smile and Thunderclash with a respectful salute. Rodimus always called him “Mags,” whether he wore the armor or not. While he wasn’t overly fond of the nickname, he appreciated the consistency. It helped to remind him that he was the same person regardless of size. 

Perhaps that was the main point of contention. Ultra Magnus was over fifty feet tall, an imposing figure of resolute dedication to law and order, but Minimus Ambus couldn’t reach the top of his own bookself. He knew logically that physical stature doesn’t have any bearing personal worth, but doubt still gnawed at his spark. 

Protecting this ship and its wayward crew had become so much more than just his job. He had come to regard this quirky assortment of misfits and miscreants as something Verity would have called family. She once told him that family is group of people that you may not always understand, but you would fight to the death to defend. It didn’t make any sense, but love seldom does. Ultra Magnus had stepped into the line of fire to defend his family countless times. What could diminutive Minimus Ambus hope to accomplish on his own? 

Turning down another corridor a small suction cup dart smacked on to his green and white shoulder. He narrowed his crimson optics and glared at the group of decepticons they had collected somewhere in their travels. All the Scavengers, including Grimlock, froze, optics widening in pure terror. 

“MISFIRE! You, gearstick!” Fulcrum throttled the stunned pink jet. “The first time you actually hit something and it’s Ultra Magnus!” 

Minimus folded his arms and started tapping his foot. 

“Oh no!” Grimlock whimpered. “Everybody, RUN!” He transformed into dino mode and they grabbed hold as he stomped away as fast as his two awkward legs could carry him. 

“Are we playing a new game now?” Spinister scratched his helm. 

“YEAH!” Fulcrum yelled, already half way down the hall. “It’s called run-away-as-fast-as-you-can-so-you-don’t-die!” 

“Again!” Spinister moaned as he transformed and flew after the rest of his team. “We always play that one.” 

Minimus allowed himself a satisfied smile. To some bots he would always be Ultra Magnus. It felt good to know that he didn’t need the armor to maintain discipline. Still, being without it left him feeling so exposed. Even though the entire crew treated him the same regardless of his appearance, he felt different. If only he could somehow internalize everyone’s unwavering support; just download it like a new datafile. He shuddered and fought the urge to run back to his habsuite and suit up. 

Slipping into the observation deck, Minimus leaned back against the door and slumped to the floor. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. At least he would have privacy, no one usually came in here unless they needed a quick hiding place during a hide and seek tournament. As far as he was aware, there wasn’t one of those scheduled until next week. 

The subtle whine of an overheating vent fan caught his attention. The possibility of one of his family being in distress spurred his protective nature into action. He pushed his insecurities aside and began checking around all the furniture. Stretched out on a couch near the window, he discovered a fitfully sleeping Megatron. His face scrunched in pain and his fingers twitched as if grasping for something just out of reach. Minimus shook his head. Nightmares. Likely they had chased him from his own habsuite. 

He contemplated waking him up, but being jostled out of an intense nightmare was a terribly jarring experience. There was another option, a bold one he never would have considered while still wearing the Magnus armor. He folded his arms, torn by indecision, until Megatron choked out a noise almost like a sob. 

That pathetic sound twisted his spark and strengthened his resolve. Spinning his transformation cog without hesitation, Minimus changed into his alt mode for the first time in centuries. As a tiny green and white turbo fox, he hopped lightly onto Megatron’s chest, nudging his trembling fingers with his nose. Megatron automatically lifted his hand, and Minimus nestled himself underneath. As soon as he curled up on the broad battle-scarred chest, Megatron’s trembling quieted. The rumble of his massive engine slowly resumed its steady measured cadence. 

Minimus laid his canine head over Megatron’s spark. Any more nightmares would have to get through him first. Megatron’s pained expression gradually eased into one of peaceful contentment. For the first time today, Minimus felt completely comfortable. Which was rather extraordinary, considering he even couldn’t remember the last time he transformed. The very tip of his tail wiggled with the realization that he could still protect those he loves in his irreducible form. Not all problems could be solved by incredible size and brute strength. 

Drowsily stretching out his forepaws, Minimus noticed a soft crimson light glinting off his white armor. He slowly raised his head, ears flattened back, already dreading what he would find. He had intended on slipping away before Megatron woke up. Oh no. This can’t be happening. Meeting Megatron’s optics, every circuit in his body froze, tiny claws clacking on his armored chest plate. Megatron’s hand still rested lightly on his back, but he made no motion to hold him. The only thing that kept Minimus from bolting out of the room and down the hall was the fear that someone else might see him. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Minimus finally asked. 

“Thank you, Minimus.” Megatron whispered with such reverent gratitude that Minimus’ pointed ears swiveled forward. He loved hearing Megatron say his name; he made it sound like poetry. Not the heavily symbolic poetry full of confusing metaphors that gave Minimus a headache, but something direct, elegant, and inherently beautiful. Megatron always called him Minimus, whether he wore the armor or not. It made him realize that even if he chose to suit up, Minimus Ambus was always the true spark inside of Ultra Magnus. 

“Thank you?” 

“Yes. Thank you. With all the light in my spark. Being tormented by nightmares is hardly unusual, but I think they might have gotten worse since I’ve returned. Losing you once was hard enough. Even the long centuries did little to dull the pain. The thought of losing you again is just too much to bear. But tonight was different. I felt safe because you protected me. So, thank you.” 

“You’re not going to say anything about...” Minimus hesitated. No one else has ever seen his true alt mode, not even Dominus. “About... this?” He twitched his canine ears and gestured towards himself with a tiny paw. 

A gentle light shone in Megatron’s eyes. “Do you want me to?” 

“I- I’m not sure.” 

“I don’t have to.” Megatron smiled and continued quietly, “But if I did, I would say that you are beautiful no matter what form you choose. Whether your optics shine bright and blue or glow deep and crimson. That your steadfast strength protects me whether you choose to wear the armor or show the world your irreducible self. That there is nowhere else in any universe that I would rather be, than right here, right now, with you.” 

“Never ask a poet’s opinion.” Minimus’ tail thumped a few times on Megatron’s chest and he flushed with embarrassment. 

“Not unless you are prepared to hear the eloquent truth.” 

Minimus transformed back into bot mode before his tail betrayed him again. Still nestled in Megatron’s embrace, he propped his head up on his elbows. “Is that so?” 

Megatron’s engine rumbled with deep resonant pleasure, but before he could respond an explosion echoed down the hallway followed by someone shouting, “Tag! You’re it!” 

Sighing from the depth of his spark, Minimus let his head drop onto Megatron’s chest with a soft clang. “If that’s Huffer and Gears again they’re spending the night in the brig,” he muttered. “They used up their third warning about Hand Grenade Tag last week.” Normally Minimus disapproved of tampering with the space time continuum, but if he could use Brainstorm’s briefcase for only one thing he would go back in time and arrest the inventor of the ship’s most disruptive sport. 

Accepting Megatron’s hand in assistance, Minimus hopped to his feet. “I apologize, but I need to handle this.” 

“Yes, of course.” Megatron sat up and shifted listlessly, reluctant to fall back asleep alone. “Protecting the crew is what you do.” He offered a slight smile that he likely intended to be supportive but just came across as painfully lonely. Despite his imposing size, Megatron looked utterly lost and forlorn, silhouetted against countless twinkling stars. 

“After I lock up those troublemakers, I suppose I will have to do another sweep of the observation deck. Just to make sure nightmares aren’t troubling anyone in here.” He hesitated for a moment at the door, torn by his next course of action. He’d seen Rodimus do it a thousand times, often to devastating effect, especially on Thunderclash. How hard could it be? Optic on, then off, then on again. Finding the courage in the same place he found it when it transformed into his canine alt mode, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. “After all, protecting the crew is what I do.” 

Megatron’s optics widened and a soft pink glow lit up his face. His jaw worked as he grasped for the proper words. Not finding any satisfactory response, a genuine warm smile spread slowly across his face. Minimus chuckled. Stunning Megatron speechless is something that he never accomplished while wearing the armor. It made him feel fifty feet tall, which was all he really wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus finishes his shift for the night, still pondering the different aspects of his identity when he realizes that for once the Magnus armor isn't the main thing on his mind.

Hurrying towards the sound of another explosion, Minimus rounded the corner and deftly snatched a hand grenade out of mid-air. He quickly deactivated it and glared at the two obviously guilty bots. Black powder scorch marks marred Huffer’s bright orange armor and Gears froze mid throw. They glanced at each and then stared at Minimus. 

“Oh, Primus!” They whispered. 

Still giddy from making Megatron blush, Minimus burst out into laughter. “I hadn’t been called that in a long time!” Actually, this was the first time he got such a strong reaction without the armor. There were no atheists in Ultra Magnus’ imposing shadow. “I’m afraid the time for prayers has passed. You know the consequences of your actions. To the brig. NOW!” 

“But-” their shoulders slumped. 

“MARCH!” Minimus put one hand on his hip and pointed in the direction of the brig with the other. 

Huffer and Gears surrendered the rest of their hand grenades with a petulant whine. Resigned to their fate, they shuffled along. 

“If want to avoid spending the night in the brig again, please find a less destructive sport. The Scavengers are always looking for more players for Shoot Shoot Bang Bang.” 

“Ok, sir.” They mumbled as Minimus locked them in for the night. 

With his shift officially over, Minimus turned back towards the observation deck. He messaged Rodimus to release Huffer and Gears in the morning. A few seconds later he received Rodimus’ reply. Minimus groaned when he opened the message to find an unintelligible array of colorful emoji. He automatically forwarded the message to Thunderclash for translation. Although Minimus could never decipher the visual cacophony of hearts, flames, and unicorns, Thunderclash always knew exactly what Rodimus was trying to convey. 

Minimus had only gone a few steps when his comm system pinged another new message. He smiled. Thunderclash was always so prompt and respectful, treating Minimus with all the same esteem that he showed to Ultra Magnus. He opened the message to read the translation, which mercifully contained mostly text: 

_Good evening, Sir!  
Please see the attached for an approximate translation, as per usual. _

Minimus nodded in approval at Thunderclash’s proper punctuation and polite formality. 

_“No Problem, Mags!!! I totally got this! Can’t imagine where they keep getting hand grenades. On a completely unrelated note, did Gears happen to mention when the next shipment of glitter is expected? Nevermind! I’ll just ask him tomorrow! Enjoy your time off!! You deserve a break!  
Love, Rodimus!” _

Minimus narrowed his optics. He hadn’t wondered about their hand grenade supply until now. And when did the command staff start signing their messages “Love”? 

_I hope you find this information helpful. Please let me know if you need anything else!  
Sincerely, Thunderclash _

_P.S. Rodimus is with me and said to tell you “Hi!”_

Thunderclash didn’t need to tell Minimus that Rodimus was with him, the line of flame and lightning bolt emoji at the end of the message made it blatantly obvious. He dragged his palm down his face. Minimus could only tolerate so many breaches of protocol at a time. While he compiled a list of topics that he needed to discuss with Rodimus, he heard someone loudly prancing towards him. 

“Hey, Chunky!” 

“Yes, Whirl?” Minimus rolled his optics with a resigned sigh. Out of all of his assorted monikers, Minimus understood Whirl’s nickname for him the least. It didn’t make any sense, but ever since he first used it during their battle with Functionist Primus, Whirl refused to let it go. True, the Magnus armor was a little bulky but no one would ever describe Minimus as “big” in any sense. Not that details mattered to Whirl. Perhaps it was one of those incomprehensible family things. He really just wanted to get back to Megatron, but if he didn’t at least see what Whirl needed, he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. 

“I have it on very good authority,” Whirl sidled up to him and stooped to wrap one claw around his tiny shoulder, “that Swerve is planning a karaoke night tomorrow.” 

“Thank you for letting me know!” Minimus smiled, pleasantly surprised. He enjoyed slipping into the bar after most of the other karaoke patrons had staggered home to sing a few Backstreet Boys songs. Swerve always made it a point to stay open extra late for him. Maybe some day he would sing in front of a crowd, but one thing at a time. He’s still getting used to simply being Minimus. “I will make a note of it. Tell Swerve that I’ll be there at my usual time.” 

“Sure thing!” Whirl’s golden optic narrowed to a slit and he glanced up and down the hall. He curled around Minimus and whispered conspiratorially, “In fact, I plan to attend, get drunk, be rowdy, and have the place cleared out for you before it gets too late. Don’t want you missing out on your beauty sleep!” 

“Whirl.” Minimus pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the imminent headache. “While I appreciate the sentiment, please refrain from causing a scene on my behalf. You know the rules. If I hear that you intentionally started a bar-clearing brawl, you’ll be keeping Huffer and Gears company in the brig.” 

“Relax! I would never do anything that you wouldn’t do!” Whirl nonchalantly waved off his concern. “See you tomorrow!” 

“Wait a minute...” Minimus muttered as he mentally calculated the implications of Whirl’s double negative. 

He raised a hand to object but was suddenly distracted by the lights glinting off his green and white armor. The plating didn’t twitch. He flexed his fingers, admiring the play of the light across the smooth motion of his joints. When did that nagging sense of discomfort dissipate? The incessant pull to run back to the Magnus armor had dulled to a manageable level. Honestly, right now, the only place he felt truly drawn to was the observation deck. 

Leaving Whirl to his endearingly frustrating wordplay, Minimus smiled and continued on his way. As much as he loved his entire family, right now he was really looking forward to spending time with only one of them. In a cavalier move that indicated Rodimus’ bad habits were rubbing off on him, he turned off his comm. Unless the ship exploded, which he would definitely hear, any other issues could wait a few hours. 

He wondered why he was slowly becoming more comfortable being in his irreducible form, especially after spending so many years hiding himself inside Ultra Magnus. Perhaps he was simply getting acclimated to being out of the armor. Although he struggled, he did make it through the whole day without it. Or maybe it was due to some other factor. Primus knows that the Lost Light is full of them. 

When he opened the door to the observation deck, he found Megatron exactly where he left him, seated next to the window with the light from a sea of stars glinting off his armor. The way Megatron’s shoulders relaxed as an adoring smile spread across his face made Minimus feel like melting right on the spot. That answered that question. It was definitely due to some other factor, particularly the one patiently waiting for him alone in the dark. Minimus said a silent prayer of thanks to Primus that he was in bot mode because that smile would have surely set his tail to wagging. 

Despite the warmth spreading through his circuits, familiar doubts crept back into Minimus' spark. The habit of burying all his own insecurities beneath a layer of impenetrable armor was so difficult to set aside. Sometimes he wasn’t sure that he had enough strength to be vulnerable. Drawing up his courage, Minimus reminded himself that a short time ago he transformed to protect Megatron from his nightmares. Revealing his tiny canine alt mode led not to ridicule, but to even greater acceptance. 

“The rest of the crew is as safe as they’ll ever be.” Minimus shut the door behind him and slowly walked over to Megatron. “At least there won’t be any more games of hand grenade tag until morning.” 

“Like I told you before,” Megatron chuckled, his optics’ crimson glow reflecting softly on his matte gray armor. “Protecting the crew is what you do, and I can’t imagine anyone who would do a better job.” 

“I don’t know,” Minimus muttered. “Ultra Magnus did a pretty good job. Are you sure that you wouldn’t feel safer with...” 

Megatron shook his head. He took Minimus’ small green hands in his own large gray ones. “Thank you, but Minimus Ambus is more than enough. He’s far better than I deserve, but all I ever wanted.” 

Minimus startled at that revelation, not so much that Megatron felt that way but more at how it set his own spark spinning. Secretly, he always wanted being Minimus to be enough. With the unconditional support of his crew and the adoring love of his co-captain, he was slowly finding comfort in his own plating. He smiled when Megatron wrapped his arms around him and gently held him. Minimus settled into his embrace and sighed, “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: lush-specimen.tumblr.com


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